BORDER PATROL

Crumbs! Sarah-Kate has something to declare

Boy, have I smuggled a few interesting things across international borders in my time. Oh no, hang on, I haven’t. In fact, anyone of my generation who watched the 1978 movie MidnightExpress has most definitely not gone down that track. We all know exactly what can happen when you strap a stash of hashish to your chest and try to get into Istanbul, only to have someone find it. In short, it’s not good.

But once the Oscar-winning film – based on a true story – swept the globe, young people who valued their freedom thought they would probably be better off not trafficking illicit substances. What’s more, the Turkish tourist industry took such a dive that the film and anyone to do with it is still persona non grata after all these years.

Despite my preference for a glass of something grape or tequila-based over anything more controversial, the horror of MidnightExpress still looms so large that when I went to Sydney recently, I declared the contraband I was carrying.

The Ginger thought I should have just zipped it and hoped for the best, but I did not, under any circumstances, want to find myself in some dungeon in the Rocks, biting out a prison guard’s tongue, so I opted for honesty.

And so it was that me and my three loaves of Vogel’s Very Thin Cut Bread faced up to border control at Sydney Airport.

The uniformed guard looked me up and down and said, most severely, “You Kiwis really like that, eh?”

Yes, my little Aussie cobber, we do. If there was a list of five things for which I’d find myself sitting out a life sentence in a five-by-five cell somewhere without proper toilet facilities, I think Vogel’s Very Thin Cut Bread is one of them.

Actually, I’m now trying to think what the other four would be. Not hashish, obviously. But I’d possibly do a stretch for Niuean honey, also potentially for French unpasteurised cheese, most likely for a good Hawke’s Bay chardonnay and definitely for Nelson’s Proper Crisps.

All of which, I might add, combine to make a pretty sensational feast. But I think the Vogel’s bread is the most versatile. Eat it fresh with whatever you please until you are justified in toasting it – then sit back and watch it come into its own. In my humble opinion, a crunchy slice of that toast with butter and a yeasty spread is one of New Zealand’s greatest assets.

And this is where the Very Thin Cut version comes in. Thinly sliced means extra crunch. And fewer calories, obviously, although who’s counting? (Ha ha. I wish.)

Anyway, it’s safe to say that border guards in Oz are very familiar with our original grainbaked goods and my Kiwi ex-pat friend for whom I was transporting my loaves was overwhelmed with happiness. She keeps it in the freezer and indulges her addiction once a day, collapsing in a downward spiral should there ever be a too-lengthy gap between visitors from New Zealand.

It’s the little things in life, isn’t it? Like toast. And lack of solitary confinement.